[reverse darkest timeline AU: cellthread #2]

[stilljustandrew]

[Previously: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5]

What's worried Baby the most, over the past few days --

Well. What's upset her the most is Andrew's consistent refusal to speak to her mind-to-mind, or out loud beyond the few necessary words she might exchange with any other inmate, such as requests for food, fresh clothes, an extra blanket.

But what's worried her is that he hasn't asked for anything to pass the time. No tablet with games or videos on it, no pencil and paper, no baseball to bounce off the opposite wall.

No books.



In the cell, Andrew finishes his breakfast (cornflakes, with sliced banana), sets aside the bowl, and settles down leaning against the wall.

Comments

[gothamsheiress]

"Yes, but I chose to pledge myself to her service. She hasn't touched me any more than that."

[stilljustandrew]

"Oh."

He looks slightly disappointed.

[gothamsheiress]

Brix watches him for a moment, then says, "Many of us also leave her service, once we've made our marques."

[stilljustandrew]

And now he looks -- shocked, maybe offended.

"You leave an angel's service?"

[gothamsheiress]

"Why not? We're not priests or priestesses."

[stilljustandrew]

For a few beats he doesn't say anything.

"So you don't, like ... swear an oath? Or ...?"

[gothamsheiress]

She opens her mouth, pauses.

"Explaining the Night Court . . . is likely to raise more questions than it answers for you, I think. But I'll answer them as best I can, if you ask."

She's tried to explain the whole thing to patrons here once or twice. It always, always gets confusing.

[stilljustandrew]

For a very, very brief blurred moment, the image in his head at the words Night Court is that of a young Harry Anderson in a judge's robe.

"I, I don't know," he mumbles, looking away. "I ... maybe we're using the same words to mean different things. If you never met the angel you're serving, and it's not the same kind of service ..."

[gothamsheiress]

"Perhaps you could explain your service, then?"

[stilljustandrew]

"It's ... I serve Him. I took oath to Him and now I do what He commands. That's what service means."

[gothamsheiress]

Brix's eyebrows climb again.

"What he commands?"

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew nods. "Yes."

[gothamsheiress]

"Whatever he commands?"

[stilljustandrew]

He blinks.

"Uh, yeah."

[gothamsheiress]

Brix purses her lips.

"I . . . appreciate the joys of giving oneself over to another's commands," she says. "It isn't something I find easy to do. But Naamah doesn't command, in that way."

[stilljustandrew]

He doesn't quite shrug, but looks away in a way that suggests it.

"So like I said. It's ... different."

[gothamsheiress]

"So I see."

Frowning slightly, she asks, "What -- has he ever commanded you to do something you disagreed with?"

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew gives her a blank look.

(There's maybe, if one is looking closely, a touch of fear hiding in it somewhere.)

"Disagreed, how?"

[gothamsheiress]

"Something you didn't wish to do? That made you fearful, or uncomfortable?" She shrugs. "For any reason."

[stilljustandrew]

"I --"

His mouth moves, trying out two or three different responses.

"I mean that's not the same thing as disagreeing, is it?"

[gothamsheiress]

"Perhaps," she allows. "Has he commanded you to do something you don't wish to do?"

[stilljustandrew]

He glances away, and hooks one finger through the ring on the opposite cuff.

"I, I guess maybe? Sometimes? But, but that's not -- that isn't important."

[gothamsheiress]

Brix takes a deep breath.

"It is important," she says, gently.

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew shakes his head. "No it isn't. What I want isn't important. It took me a long time to learn that."

[gothamsheiress]

Which is a statement of such utter abasement that it actually shocks Brix into silence, for several seconds.

"--I beg your pardon?"